


Idle Hands

by dysphorie



Series: drabble drabble, bitch bitch [2]
Category: John 5 (Musician), Marilyn Manson (Band), Slipknot (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Dry Humping, Fluff and Smut, Intimacy, M/M, Movie Night, Netflix and Chill, Sleepy Sex, apparently, but effort-wise it's a drabble, horror movies make jim horny ok, lengthwise it might be a one-shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 18:14:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20710379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dysphorie/pseuds/dysphorie
Summary: What's a guy to do when a movie is really boring and his best guy is really sexy?





	Idle Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badwolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolf/gifts).

Jim loves horror movies. John loves horror movies.

Jim loves John. John loves Jim.

Sounds like a match made in heaven, right? That’s what Jim thought too. 

The longer the movie they’re currently watching runs, the more he doubts these facts though. It’s not that he doesn’t like foreign films, or Japanese and Korean horror as a genre, or anything like that. _ ‘Tokyo Gore Police’ _ is a personal favourite, right up there with _ ‘Whispering Corridors’ _ and those fucking ‘_Guinea Pig’ _ films. Jim couldn’t sleep without having nightmares about mermaids for a solid week after that. Anyway, he’s up for anything at least once.

Or at least he usually is. John had whined and wheedled at Jim to let him pick the film for movie night, despite it being Jim’s turn, because he just _ had _ to show Jim one of his absolute favourite movies. Jim would’ve said yes anyway, but John’s just so fucking cute when he begs that Jim _ had _ to string him along for a bit. And yeah ok maybe the _ “pretty please” _blowjob John gave him was pretty great too. He’s not convinced it was worth it anymore though.

So that’s how Jim ended up lying on the couch this particular Friday night, John’s head pillowed on his chest, under John’s favourite KISS blanket, watching what is apparently going to be the weirdest shit he’s ever seen. Jim sincerely doubts this is the case. Jim’s seen ‘_ Brazil’. _ Twice. It’s not even that weird so far (except possibly for the title made out of spunk. That was...interesting), it’s fucking _ boring. _ Wooo, guy with weird piercings blows smoke out his cheeks. Big deal. He’s seen girls on tour squirt bodily fluids through theirs. 

It’s barely been on fifteen minutes and Jim’s eyes are closing. He’s comfy on his back, John’s wedged between his side and the back of the couch with Jim’s hand running gently up and down his bare back, and Jim’s warm and happy and cozy. 

John makes a noise and nudges him, breaking into his happy snooze. “You’re missing it, babe.” Jim’s eyes flutter open just in time to watch the lead guy, Kaka-something, pour hot oil on a guy suspended by chains and hooks. _ Ok, that’s kinda hot, _he admits to himself. He’s not gonna tell John that though.

“Sorry baby,” he snorts. “I’m paying attention now, promise.” But he’s not paying attention. He’s looking at the guy on the screen, the main one with the blonde hair and piercings, and looking down at John’s platinum head. _Hmm_. “Hey, you know you kinda look like him, right?”

John’s eyes are comically wide when he turns his head up to face Jim. “I do fucking not.”

His expression makes Jim giggle. “Sure you do, hon. Look at him! The hair is the same, his weird mouth’s the same -”

“I do _ not _ have a weird mouth!”

“Okay okay, not _ that _ kinda weird, but you gotta admit, that’s kinda what your lipstick looks like,” He tucks an errant strand of hair behind John’s ear. “You even have the same big brown eyes.”

John looks scandalized, indignant and completely incapable of arguing because he knows exactly what Jim means. It’s the most ridiculously adorable thing Jim’s ever seen. The snort bubbles out of him before he can stop it, and he tries to stifle the next but it’s too late, John’s caught him, and the way his mouth pinches tighter and his forehead creases more just makes Jim laugh harder. Soon John is jiggling as Jim shakes with laughter. He’s got fucking tears in his eyes and it’s so stupid, and when he tugs John against him again there’s only slight resistance.

“C’mere baby, I’m sorry,” he chuckles, trying to urge John up to his face, “Kiss and make up?”

With a pout John frowns and thumps his head back down onto Jim’s chest. “No, I’m mad at you.”

Jim sighs with the ghost of a laugh. “Fine, fine,” he says, dropping a kiss onto the top of John’s head (which earns him John swatting him away) and resuming his lazy stroking of John’s back. John goes from being stiff against him to slightly less stiff. Ever so slightly. His attempts at pretending he’s angry are just darling to Jim, who knows all the best ways to wrap John Lowery right back around his little finger. John can never stay mad at Jim for long.

When Jim slips his pinky finger under the waistband of John’s pajama pants, John twitches and Jim freezes. Waiting to be told off, told to stop and leave him alone. Which is what he would do it he was _actually _angry. Instead he just settles back down, continues watching the movie as if nothing was happening. _Green light,_ Jim thinks. The next time his hand strokes down, he lets two fingers drift beneath that waistband, then three, then - 

He keeps his touch feather light, still trying to act like nothing’s happening. They’re just watching a movie under the blankets, just like any other couple. No funny business here. His middle finger tickles down the crack of John’s ass. The only sign John gives is a soft inhale of breath. Jim repeats the movement once, twice...

Jim spares a glance at the movie. There’s some guy tied up inside an old TV for some fucking reason. While he rolls his eyes, it doesn’t escape his attention that the girl at the back is wearing a fur coat that looks a lot like John’s. The purple outfit on the weird pierced dude wouldn’t look bad on him either. He makes a mental note, John’s birthday’s coming up after all.

Wait, was that a fucking _ tongue _ that just got dropped into that jar? It looks like it, with the piercing and blood and all. That piques his curiosity. That _is_ kinda weird. Maybe he’ll pay attention next time they watch it.

He must’ve been caught up in the film longer than he thought, because John is ever so gently pushing his ass back against Jim’s hand. Back with the program, he trails his fingers upwards, softly running his hand over the peachy skin of John's butt. He’s warm and soft and when Jim slides a finger back down his crack to rub at his hole, he is oh so very welcoming. He roams in slow circles, the muscles there fluttering against the pad of his finger. God, if he had his way he’d drag John on top of him and let him ride him until the credits played. But the lube’s all the way upstairs, and Jim knows spit is nowhere near enough for John to take Jim’s cock, and Jim’s not gonna hurt him like that. Not without him asking nicely anyway.

Moving slowly, not wanting to give John a fright, Jim slides his hand out, quickly bringing it to his mouth and sucking on two fingers. Getting them as wet as possible. Taking care not to touch John with cold fingers, he slides them back down beneath the fabric, down that downy crease, back to where he was. John’s shuddering, tense with need. Jim can feel it through his whole body. He feels it _ inside _ his body.

Craning his head a little, he looks down at the baby-soft cloud of John’s hair. “You still watching the film, baby?”

John doesn’t speak, just gives him a twitchy nod and pulls the blanket up higher over his shoulder.

“Good, good. Keep watching, don’t want to miss all the good bits.”

That makes John whine, quiet and muffled in the fabric-covered knuckles pressed against his lips, and he only lets out the tiniest squeak when Jim breaches him with the tip of his middle finger. From there it only takes a little working his finger back and forth before he can sink it in to the next knuckle, then nearly all the way home. As best he can from this angle. _ Fuck_, that feels good. Slowly he goes back and forth, back and forth, crooking his finger here and there to stretch John slowly but surely. He always opens up so well for Jim. Mere minutes pass before Jim chances stroking his first finger beside the middle one, waiting for permission. John pushes back again, eager, and Jim does what he always does: gives John exactly what he wants. 

That finger slides in every bit as easily as the first, and before long he’s thrusting lazily, and it’s soft and slow and Jim’s not even having anything done to him and he’s already seeing stars. John shifts, moving slightly higher up as best he can. Turning his face, he tucks it into the crook of Jim’s shoulder. Now Jim can reach that little bit further down, can properly push his fingers inside. His hand’s fucking shaking, and he feels like a horny teenager getting to finger someone for the very first time. There’s no way he can hit John’s prostate from this angle, but it doesn’t matter. They’ll manage. 

John's tight, like a hot little glove, and takes a minute to just rub at his insides; they're warm, silken, make to suck perfectly around Jim's fingers. His hole spasms, trembling with the rest of him as he presses his face harder against Jim's shoulder, panting out these sweet little noises against the skin there. Still Jim moves faithfully, in and out, angling his fingers as best he can but John’s still so fucking tight.

Suddenly there's a warm hand on Jim's lower stomach, and it's inching further and further down. Before it can reach Jim’s dick, he stops it by covering it with one big hand. Jim never thought this thought would cross his mind, even in his dizziest daydreams, but he's scooping John's hand up and bringing it to his lips, whispering against the digits.

"No baby,” he says, kissing each fingertip. John’s hand feels fucking tiny in his. “This is about you."

The whine that pulls from John shoots straight to Jim's dick, makes him woozy and warm, and he damn near leaves his body when he feels John start to rut against him. John's hard, whole body hot and shaking, and they're both clumsy and too eager when they try to sync their movements. Jim can feel the desperation radiating off John, an almost palpable heat, and his hip, bare where his shorts have been tugged down by John’s fidgeting, is wet where John's fucking leaking through his pants and grinding against him. Letting John’s hand go, he brings it instead to the back of his head, weaving his fingers in the soft blonde locks. Pressing humid kisses against his head, Jim murmurs all his sweetest nothings. Tells John he’s perfect, that he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to Jim, that he’s proud of him. All the things he’s too damned awkward to say outside of the bedroom, it all trips from his lips, and John’s trembling and keening out Jim’s name over and over. Begging for his release. Jim’s hip is completely soaked and John is rock hard against it. Jim works him harder, letting John work himself on his fingers, using Jim’s digits as he needs to to get what he needs. That’s all Jim needs. He couldn’t care less if he never came again if it meant he could do nothing but get John off for the rest of his life.

All too soon, John’s grabbing at Jim’s ribs, digging his nails in as tears soak Jim’s t shirt. His hole clamps down tight, muscles fluttering, and with a single loud, stuttering cry Jim’s hip is suddenly warm and wet. Jim just keeps doing what he was doing, lets John fuck himself through his orgasm until he’s ready to stop, remember John doesn’t like Jim to pull out too soon. He waits for the signal, removes his fingers gingerly, and gently takes hold of John’s face. He’s breathless, eyes so unfocused it’s like he can’t see Jim two inches away from him, and Jim steals what little oxygen John has left when he slots their lips together. He doesn’t even care about the come they’re stuck together with that’s undoubtedly dripping onto the couch cushions, just keeps kissing John like his life depends on it. 

When John sighs, exhausted and sated, Jim lets him go. They lie together for a few long minutes, the only sound their hammering hearts and the movie in the background. Jim’s eyes are starting to close again. It vaguely occurs to him to ask if John wants to watch the rest of the movie or does he want to start it over again. The lure of sleep is too strong though.

Until soft, wet lips press against his t shirt, that is. He’s still high off John’s orgasm and it takes him a second to process what’s happening, and by the time he does his shorts are around his thighs and his cock is in John’s mouth.

Yeah, they’re gonna have to start from the beginning for sure.

**Author's Note:**

> This was born from a prompt I saw on Tumblr about "Netflix and fingering under the blankets", which my friend, to whom this is dedicated, kicked up a notch by suggesting "Netflix and fingering for John and Jim while watching a fucked up horror movie" and like HOW COULD I NOT. So this was written in like .5 seconds and I will accept no criticism, constructive or otherwise! 
> 
> dysphorie-by-the-sea.tumblr.com


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